


natural disasters and bureaucracy

by blommowitch



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Gen, One Shot, Writing Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2018-06-07 15:02:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6810229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blommowitch/pseuds/blommowitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From this writing prompt: "A superhero tries to get him/herself classified as a natural disaster so people can get refunded by their insurance company when he/she destroys their home during a fight."</p>
            </blockquote>





	natural disasters and bureaucracy

**Author's Note:**

> Again, this is all Anna's fault, because she reblogged the prompt. Here you go.

”Well, Ms. Johnson, I’m sure you understand why we simply cannot comply with your wishes.” He could feel the sweat trickling down his neck as Ms. Johnson replied with a regal glare. She crossed one leg over the other and shifted her chair slightly. ”I’m not sure I see the problem,” she said.

The daylight was filtering through the office, shadowing the stacks of paper and a vase on his desk, with its neatly lettered sign, saying ”Centre for Research on the Epidemiology of Disasters - Geographical Division. _Allen Moore_.” He swallowed. ”Ms. Johnson, as you are, in fact, a member of the human species, we are unable to classify you as a natural disaster. Those, erm, unfortunate folks whose homes have been ruined or made inhabitable by you will have to fund the damages with their own money.” He could feel her gaze boring into him. The leather jacket didn’t help much, either. She put her hands on his desk; he inched back slightly. She raised one eyebrow.

”Allen,” she said, with the smile of a cat who knows she’s got her prey cornered, ”my powers don’t exactly qualify as ’human’. And seeing as Inhumans aren’t yet acknowledged as real, the only thing left to these people are to put the damages under ’natural disaster’, and hope for insurance.” She smiled sweetly. It did not reassure him. ”And,” she continued, ”as most of America’s citizens don’t have huge piles of money simply lying around, the damages to their homes will remain. Unless you change those records.”

His suit felt far too tight. Had it shrunk in the wash? ”Ms. Johnson, I _hate_ to disagree with you, but it isn’t possible. No matter how convincing your arguments are, you still remain human. And so do these powers of yours.” He couldn’t help a sliver of doubt creeping into his voice. Daisy Johnson adjusted her leather jacket and held up a hand. ”Human powers, you said?”

The vase exploded. Thankfully it had not been neither valuable not very large (an IKEA Sannolik, a gift from a colleague) it still made rather a lot of noise. Allen Moore recoiled and hit his knees on his desk in his urgency to get away from it. Dust landed on his tailored suit, and he picked up a glass shard from his hair.

”I see now that I have had cause to, um, reconsider your proposal.” His voice felt weak, but Ms Johnson smiled encouragingly. ”I shall certainly register you as a natural disaster of the geological variety, as you seem to be creating something similar to that effect.” The proof of this was lying all over his desk, and he tried to muster some more courage. ”It has been a pleasure meeting you, Ms. Johnson,” he said, crossing his fingers under his desk. She seemed to understand his wishes and immediately rose from her chair, brushing some shards of glass from her trousers. ”Great! And I’m sure that I can trust you helping the people homeless already.” Although her demeanor was light and happy, her gaze bore into him. He tried to speak, failed, and then tried again. ”Why of course!” he stuttered. She smiled back at him.

”Thanks so much, Allen. You’ve been a great help!” She turned away, a slight bounce in her step, and then turned back. She looked sheepish. ”Oh, and sorry about the vase.” As Daisy Johnson walked out of his office, Allen Moore sent up a silent prayer that no more of these Inhumans would emerge - or at least, that if they did, they would have the decency to take their complaints to the hydrological department.


End file.
